


16 Candles

by Westgate (Harkpad)



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Birthdays, Drama, M/M, Phil Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-21 07:55:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3684264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harkpad/pseuds/Westgate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil feels way too close to Molly Ringwald's character. He feels childish, but even Clint forgot his birthday. He figures a little self-pity isn't out of line.</p>
            </blockquote>





	16 Candles

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know. Clark Gregg's birthday came across my tumblr page, and this emerged.

 Phil's shoes scuff the carpet of the hallway outside his office and his briefcase hangs limp at his side. He’s Purvi from accounting waves and says hi as she passes him, but his brain takes half a beat too long to pull up her name, and she’s halfway down the hall before he turns to say hello. He sighs and shuffles up to the elevator. His arms feel numb and his feet don’t really feel connected to his body as he stands and waits for the elevator,

He lets out a huff as he stands in the elevator at headquarters. He’s headed up to a meeting with Nick, and he’s already had breakfast with Clint and Natasha, a meeting with Tony and Steve, and had run into Jasper in the lobby before stepping onto the elevator with a tired wave.

Now he is alone on the elevator, which is why he allows himself to let out the huff.

No one has said a word about his birthday. He figures he should forgive Tony and Steve; they hadn't known him for years like Clint and Natasha (or been his lover for six years like Clint, jeez), nor had they ever baked him a family recipe of bananas foster like Jasper did a few years ago. Phil can still taste the bananas as the memory wafts through his head and makes him smile. And then he scowls.

What was Molly Ringwold's character name in _Sixteen Candles_? Claire, that's right, he thinks to himself. He feels like Claire. His scowl turns into a full-on frown and the elevator draws to a halt. He steps out and strides into Nick's office, waving at his secretary - James, or Jordan, or Jerome, Phil can’t remember. He opens Nick's door and heads in.

Nick will remember. He'd known Phil longer than any of the others, and they had a tradition. A dirty version of Happy Birthday, a glass of something strong no matter what time of day, and a gag gift of some sort. Last year it had been a coffee mug shaped like a toilet, which now traveled  all over the building, landing on someone's desk whenever they piss someone else off or do something notably stupid.

Nick will remember.

He doesn’t. They work for two hours thanks to a budget problem and three HR problems that have to be dealt with today and today only and then Nick stands and pours himself a cup of coffee. “I’m not offering you any, Phil. You need some sleep.”

Phil gathers his papers and stands, waiting. Surely Nick remembers. “I am pretty wiped.”

“You look like shit, Phil. You haven’t been home since yesterday and it’s almost seven. Clint’s gonna come gunning for me if I don’t send you home, so go. Get outta here.” Nick sits down behind his desk and waves Phil off.

Phil is too tired for this, so he leaves. He doesn’t even stop at his office. He’s walking through the garage to his car, trying not to trip on the cracks in the pavement when he hears Natasha.

“You’re walking with your head down and I’ve been following you since you got off the elevator. You can’t drive,” she says, sliding up next to him and holding her hand out expectantly.

He just keeps walking.

“Phil.”

He stops and looks up blearily and sighs. “What do you want, Natasha?”

She cocks an eyebrow and reaches toward his hand. “Give me your keys and let me drive you home. Clint said you didn’t sleep at home last night and Fury just called me and told me to make sure you got home safely. Clint’s waiting.”

Phil can’t help his petulance. “Is that all?” he asks. This is one of his closest friends, and she still hasn’t even wished him a happy birthday. He’s exhausted and just wants to crawl into bed by himself and sleep until this damned day is over. She’s not helping.

She takes his keys and steps back. “I’m driving you home. That’s all for now.”

He glares at her and then relents, throws his briefcase in the back seat, and climbs in the passenger side and slumps down, slamming the door shut. Natasha climbs in, stares at him, and then starts the car. He stares out the window and tries to stay awake for the twenty minute drive.

“Phil, hey.” Clint’s kneeling next to him in jeans and a soft green Henley with the car door propped open with his back, and he rubs Phil’s thigh with his hand. “Wake up and come inside.”

Phil blinks and sees Natasha standing behind him with her arms crossed. He looks at Clint and sees worry on his lined face. Phil sighs and climbs out of the car, and when Clint offers his hand to help, Phil ignores him. Bed is what he wants at this point, and if he has to wait for someone he loves to wish him happy birthday any longer he’s going to break something.

It’s not that he thinks he’s super-important, or that he even likes big deals over a birthday. It’s just the thought. He wants someone to think about it is all, and he’s been angry about it all day. He’s tired of it. He walks inside, kicks off his shoes in the foyer, and storms into the bedroom at the back of the house. He drops his briefcase on their desk and is tugging his tie off when Clint shuts the bedroom door softly and leans against it, just watching.

Phil hangs his tie up, unbuttons his shirt and throws it in the hamper before he spins and says, “What?” Clint shrugs and moves to Phil’s side, reaching for his belt buckle. Phil doesn’t think, just steps back and unbuckles his belt himself.

Clint puts his hands on his hips. “Phil? Is this more than just you being a cranky asshole because you’re exhausted? I mean, I know you probably need to face plant for the night, but Nat said you didn’t say a word, and you seem. . . . pissed.”

Phil pulls on his pajamas with a sigh. “I’m fine,” he says, and heads into their bathroom. He brushes his teeth and washes his face and ignores Clint, who is downright hovering. He pushes past him and crawls into bed. As he reaches out to set his alarm for tomorrow, Clint stops him.

“Phil. What’s wrong?”

“I need to set my alarm and go to sleep, Clint. It’s been a really bad day.” He reaches for his clock and Clint hands it over with a sigh. Phil sets it and Clint lies down on top of the covers and brushes his hand up and down Phil’s arm.

“I’m sorry,” Clint says softly.

Phil faces him and frowns. “You really forgot all day, didn’t you?”

Clint sits up. “What?”

Phil groans. “Never mind.” This is all ridiculous and he just wants to sleep. It’s just a stupid birthday. Now that he’s in bed and sleep is close, he can concede that he’s being a little childish. “It’s fine.”

Clint runs his hand through Phil’s hair and rubs his neck, and it feels heavenly. Phil closes his eyes, but Clint suddenly sits up. “Wait.”

Phil looks up at him and sees confusion turn to a grin. “Phil, what’s today’s date?”

“July 8th, Clint,” he says, and frowns. “It’s no big deal.”

Clint laughs, and on any other day Phil would take the opportunity to revel in the deep laugh and the way Clint’s eyes get crinkly on the edges, the way he ducks his head and suddenly looks like a ten year-old boy as he shakes on the bed. His laugh tapers off, though, as Phil can’t even dredge up any indignity at the situation and just stares.

Clint sucks in a deep breath and stops laughing. He leans over and presses a kiss to Phil’s lips and then presses his forehead to Phil’s. “It’s the 7th, Phil, not the 8th.”

Phil narrows his eyes and stares. Surely Clint’s wrong. “But,” he starts, ready to protest fully, but he really doesn’t know and he’s filled with a wave of uncertainty. “I thought,” he tries again, but nothing comes. He lies back on the pillow and closes his eyes. “That would explain a lot,” he says, and it’s all he’s got. He’s so tired.

He feels Clint stretch out next to him and put his hand on Phil’s cheek. He opens his eyes and Clint’s kaleidoscope eyes are close and filled with warmth.

“Nick’s got his gag gift all set and it’s a doozy, Tony’s got a surprise lunch party ready at the Tower – and don’t you dare tell him I told you – and I’ve got reservations at Shannon’s tomorrow night at eight, barring an emergency. We’ve got your day ready, Phil. We didn’t forget.” He leans over and kisses Phil again, and Phil can feel the love seep into his lips, and he kisses back, licks Clint’s upper lip and pulls him close, presses his chest against Clint’s.

“I feel so stupid,” he whispers, and Clint chuckles again.

“You’ve been awake a long time,” he replies with a shrug. “Sleep, and we’ll celebrate tomorrow. You deserve it.”

“I owe Natasha an apology,” he says, and Clint smiles.

“She knew something was off. She’s been sleep deprived a time or two. She’ll understand.”

“I thought Nick forgot,” he says, and watches for Clint’s reaction. He wasn’t disappointed.

Laughter bubbles out of Clint and his eyes do the thing and he ducks his head and Phil can’t help but wrap his arms tighter and pull Clint closer. He buries his face in Clint’s shoulder.

“I won’t tell him,” Clint replies, and then, after a pause, he adds, “Unless I need to.”

Phil groans. “He’ll just make next year worse.”

Clint nods and rubs Phil’s back and Phil’s body decides that it’s had enough. He goes boneless in Clint’s arms. Clint pushes him back into the bed and pulls the covers up tightly around Phil’s chin. “Go to sleep. You’re getting older. You need your rest.”

Phil opens one eye and frowns at Clint. “You’re just going to have a ball with this tomorrow, aren’t you?” His chest feels loose and full at the sight of Clint’s grin.

“Yes, old man, I am. I really, really am. But for now, sleep.”

So Phil does. He closes his eyes, lets the rhythm of Clint’s hand rubbing his hair lull him and lets the garbage of the day slip away.

Nick has a gag pen in place for every time someone hands Phil a pen, and by the end of the day Phil’s tie is soaked through with water; Tony’s lunch includes Avengers cupcakes and balloons, and dinner with Clint is wrapped up with a small chocolate cake that has sixteen candles on it.

Clint smiles through the candlelight and says, “Happy birthday, Phil,” and it’s the best present Phil could get.


End file.
